


Grease and Testosterone

by MidnightMoonCat



Series: Fixin' Things [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Post Blind Betrayal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7038553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightMoonCat/pseuds/MidnightMoonCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of Blind Betrayal, Danse finds himself at the Red Rocket outside Sanctuary, unsure what to do with the shattered pieces of his life. Sturges gives him something to think about, laying the foundations for healing and moving on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grease and Testosterone

It was the dog whining that got his attention. Turning the heat down on the stove so his dinner wouldn’t burn, Sturges headed out of the Red Rocket station.

“Wha’s a matter, Sparky?” The junkyard dog he had adopted a month ago looked from him to the closed gate and whined softly again. “Huh. Someone out there, girl? I didn’ hear no one knockin’ and gate’s closed for the night, but if you say so…” Patting her gently on the head, he mounted the stairs towards the now empty guard shack.

The sun had already set and at first he couldn’t see anyone, but as one of the searchlights swiveled, the illuminated circle crept back toward the gate and silhouetted a lone figure sitting on the ground, head hanging down and shoulders slumped.

“Well, I’ll be. What’s he doin’ out there?” Shaking his head, Sturges went to open the gate. “You plannin’ on sittin’ out there all night ‘cause I got a big pot of stew cookin’ and I could use some help finishin’ it.”

Danse looked up from where he sat, taking in the easy smile that seemed to be Sturges’ near permanent expression before turning his head to stare out over the dark ribbon of cracked asphalt that led down to Concord. When the mechanic’s voice came again, it was closer and softer than before.

“Are you alright, Pala-”

“ _No_.” That one word was a rusted, collapsing roof trying to hold back a radstorm of pain and sorrow.

As he helped the soldier to his feet and guided him inside the small walled compound, Sturges surreptitiously looked him over, trying to see if there was an obvious injury or anything else that might explain Danse’s shell shocked state. The only thing out of place was the lack of his normal armored shell. Even without the powered armor boosting his already impressive height, Danse was a good half foot taller than the stocky mechanic, but it made it easier for Sturges to slip a supporting arm around the other man’s back.

The diner booth creaked slightly when Danse slid down to sit on the faded red bench. When Sturges came back with a couple of cold nuka colas after stirring the stew, his guest was staring out the glassless windows, fingers absently plucking at the corner of a piece of duct tape sealing a tear in the leather seat.

“You wanna talk or just sit and relax a bit before the food’s ready?”

The dark shadows under Danse’s hollow eyes were laid bare beneath the harsh light of the unshaded bulb hanging above the booth. “Why are you doing this?”

Taking off the cap with a practiced twist, Sturges slid one of the glass bottles across the table towards the other man before opening the other. “Why am I doin’ what, Danse?”

“Talking to me, feeding me…” One broad hand lifted to gesture vaguely from the stove in the back of the room to Sturges seated on the opposite side of the booth, “Being nice to me.” The former Paladin’s sigh filled the small space and his gaze dropped back to the table. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Well, why wouldn’t I help you? You’re a friend.”

Brown eyes widened as they lifted swiftly to meet bright blue, which even now were crinkling at the corners as a laugh slipped out. “Wha’? Did you think the General was the only one here who felt tha’ way?” The answer was plain as Danse swallowed harshly and looked away.

   


* * *

    


After dinner, the two men sat on the roof of the Red Rocket station and Sturges pulled a couple of cold beers from a small cooler, handing one to Danse. Opening his, the former paladin took a long drink and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Sturges still hadn’t asked him what had happened. Why he was here and not with the Brotherhood. It was something of a surprise to be granted that small reprieve. It would take him time to figure out the mess that was left of his life. Nothing made sense anymore and he knew that as soon as he opened his mouth… as soon as he told the Minutemen and the rest of the settlers at Sanctuary the truth, there would be no more friendly meals, no more offers of help. How could they possibly accept him, when he was the very monster that he had been sent to the Commonwealth to destroy?

When his voice finally came, it was so quiet, Sturges had to ask him to repeat his question. “I asked... if you’ve lost anyone to the Institute, to the… _synths_.”

There was a brief pause as the mechanic tilted up his bottle, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, followed by a deep sigh. “Yes an’ no.” Sturges slid a hand through his upswept hair, mussing the dark strands before giving Danse an apologetic shrug. “Tha’s prob’ly not the answer ya wanted, but it’s not an easy question, ya dig?”

“Why is it not an easy question?” Danse’s brows lowered.

“Well, I guess ‘cause it depends on wha’ you mean when you ask about losin’ someone.” Another shrug lifted his broad shoulders and he started to pick at the edge of the faded label on the bottle. “I guess in a way, you migh’ say that a synth was responsible for my dad’s death.”

“Then how can you tolerate them? How can you stand to talk to... that detective? How can you chose to be anywhere near him?”

Sturges turned his head and stared. It wasn’t the first time Danse had expressed a less than favorable view of synths, but there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Do ya really think tha’ Nick is a spy from th’ Institute? Tha’ he got himself captured an’ coulda died just to trick the General inta trustin’ him?”

Turning his face away, Danse considered everything he had seen and heard of Nick Valentine, and while he had never willingly sought out the other’s company, he had to admit that he had not witnessed anything to suggest it… _he_ … was a danger. Not to the Minutemen or to the people in Diamond City. Finally, he shook his head.

Setting the bottle down on the concrete next to him, Sturges turned until he was facing Danse, arms wrapped loosely around his bent knees. “Do ya really want to know why I don’t have a problem with the synths here? With Nick and with Curie?”

His mouth opened, but there was no sound, no way for him to put into words why this was so important. Swallowing harshly, Danse finally just nodded, his gaze locked on Sturges’ face, shadowed as it was in the dim rooftop lighting.

“Well, ta really explain, I’ll have ta tell ya about something that happened a while back. Before tha Minutemen nearly disappeared.”

Having heard parts of the story of the Quincy attack from Preston, the Longs and his new friend, Danse nodded, curious about what Sturges might reveal and how it related to the Institute.

“There was a caravan attacked by raiders. Happens all the time, though it happens less when there are more Minutemen around. This caravan wasn’t traders, it was a family and their daughter, heading to another settlement for her weddin’. The raiders killed her parents and took her.” Sturges paused. The look of anger on Danse’s face made it plain that he understood where this was going. “The man she was gonna marry and his family, they called the Minutemen. Asked ‘em to rescue ‘er.”

“Did they save her?”

“They found ‘er after just a couple days an’ brought her back, but…” Picking up his beer, Sturges downed the last of it. “They delayed the wedding, wantin’ to give her time to grieve her parents and make sure she’d be alright, but then they found out… found out that she was pregnant.”

Danse stood abruptly and hurled his now empty beer bottle far out over the tall walls built around the old gas station before he began to restlessly pace along the rooftop.

“The man she was gonna marry… he told her that he didn’t want no raider’s brat growin’ up in his house. That he wasn’t gonna waste his time raising a child that would jus’ turn on ‘em all as soon as it was old enough. He told ‘er if she wanted to stay, she’d have ta get rid of the baby.”

The pacing had stopped but even in the dim light, his clenched fists and stiff shoulders were clear. At Sturges’ final words, Danse spun around and glared. “He _what_?”

Holding up a hand, Sturges continued. “Don’t worry, the girl had ‘er own ideas. She figured if tha’ was how he saw things, then maybe a marriage between them wasn’t really what she wanted. So she called tha Minutemen. They found a settlement tha’ welcomed her and made sure she was safe ‘til she had the baby.”

Some of the tension slipped from Danse’s body and he dropped back to sit on the concrete roof. “Was the child… um... how did it turn out?”

“Well, nothin’ like a raider, if tha’s what your askin’. Grew up a good boy, took care of ‘is mother, always helped her and the man she eventually married.”

Danse nodded slowly, his expression still somber. “Why did you tell me this story?”

“Well, I guess ‘cause I wanted you to think about the baby. Do you think the mother was right ta keep him?”

There was no hesitation in the reply. “Of course. Children are rare and each one is precious. The girl was… very brave to put the life of her child before her own pain and the scars she undoubtedly bore.”

Nodding his agreement with the assessment, Sturges continued, “And do ya think that the child was to blame? Do ya think that just ‘cause his life started from an act o’ evil that it made him evil? Or do ya think that what’s more important is what he chose to do with that life?”

Tilting his head back to gaze up at the half moon, Danse let out a heavy sigh. He could see the point that Sturges was trying to make and it was something he would need to consider later, but for now his thoughts and emotions were still too scattered to really process anything. Despite a stomach full of warm stew and what had without a doubt been the most emotionally exhausting time of his life since Cutler died, he suspected that sleep would not come easily tonight.

Standing up, Sturges brushed off the seat of his faded jeans. “I’ll put some clean sheets on one of the spare beds for ya. Come inside when you’re ready.” His foot nudged the faded blue cooler closer to the seated man. “There’s another cold one in here, if ya want it.”

When he took a few steps towards the wooden shack built at the rear of the roof, Danse called out to him. Turning back, Sturges waited patiently for the other man to continue.

“What happened to them? To the girl and her son?” He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed important.

“Well, I don’t really know the whole story, but you could prob’ly ask Preston about it.”

“He was one of the Minutemen that helped rescue her from the raiders?” It seemed a logical explanation.

His eyes dropped briefly before meeting Danse’s gaze, a thoughtful expression on Sturges’ face. “No, Danse. Preston was the baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part in a short series about Danse and some of the events that occur after Blind Betrayal. It does not include the Sole Survivor, other than as a background character, but instead focuses on Danse's friendship (and perhaps potential romance) with other characters from the game.


End file.
